


Lotrips marching band AU, Parts 1-3

by Scribe



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe/pseuds/Scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an utterly ridiculous, completely self-indulgent crack AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lotrips marching band AU, Parts 1-3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just writing random bits of this as I feel like it, so be prepared for timeline gaps.

It would have been a lie to say that Billy didn't notice Dom Monaghan when the latter joined Emerson High halfway through their sophomore year. It would also have been wrong, however, to read too much into it. He noticed Dom, yes, in the way that any member of a group who'd grown up together both in and out of school notices a stranger in their midst. He turned heads just by being new- and then kept them turned by being Dom. He didn't fit into any category anyone knew, with dark eyeliner above his neatly pressed khakis and polo shirt, stick-out ears, strangely-shaped jaw, and random words scrawled his arms and hands. Billy thought he looked like nothing more than a collection of mismatched parts.

He certainly didn't notice Dom in the way that, say, Orlando did.

"Oh my _god_, have you seen the new kid?" he said, slipping into their accustomed practice room on the first day of second semester.

"We have a new kid?" mumbled Elijah from where he was sprawled on the floor with an arm over his eyes.

"Not just a new kid. A gorgeous new kid. A beautiful new kid. A new kid who transcends boundaries and doesn't allow the world to dictate who he should be. A new kid who's _gay_." He slumped back against the door with a dramatic sigh "God, I'm in love."

"If by love you mean puberty," said Elijah, which was probably true. Some quirk of biology had made Orlando attracted to a good half of the people in any given room. He'd had a crush on everyone in their little group at one time or another, including a solid year of infatuation with Billy back in eighth grade. The two of them had been friends for as long as he could remember and were sufficiently used to each other that it hadn't mattered much. Billy had been flattered and Orlando had been a little forlorn and then they'd been freshmen, little fish in a big pond of potential romantic interests that Orlando had flitted between for a few months before settling down to make puppy dog eyes at Viggo for the remainder of the year.

You couldn't hold it against him. Orlando wasn't creepy about it; if anything, it made him even more endearing. It wasn't like he had any control over his hormones, and he was so earnest and heartfelt in his affections that you couldn't help but root for him, even if they never worked out.

"How do you know he's gay?" Asked Elijah, who was apparently being replaced as the object of Orlando's interest. He'd been a tiny and slightly ridiculous seventh grader, invisible next to Orlando's passion for Billy when they were in middle school, but all that had changed when he'd entered high school that fall. Billy had spent the semester wondering if Elijah knew, but he'd been sworn to secrecy on the subject. He preferred to keep out of Orlando's love life anyway, besides his long-standing role of confidant.

"He's wearing eyeliner. Eyeliner!"

"That doesn't _necessarily_ mean anything."

"Of course it does. You wear eyeliner on your first day at a new school, it's because you're trying to send a message."

"He'll be in orchestra," commented Billy, neatly derailing the argument.

"Really?"

"Mm. Maybe band, too. I saw him this morning trying to find a locker for a bassoon case." Dom had looked lost and shy, utterly out of place. He'd meant to go help out, but PJ had wandered out of his office just then and asked about his vacation and he'd sort of forgotten about Dom after that. He felt a bit guilty about it, in retrospect.

"Bassoon? I'll never see him!" wailed Orlando, who was their concertmaster. "Why doesn't anyone attractive play the cello?"

"Bill and I will spy on him for you," Elijah promised.

There was a noise outside and they all fell silent until someone rattled the handle of the door Orlando was leaning against. He scooted out of the way just in time to avoid a flying backpack, closely followed by Andy.

"Ooh, this is a good period," he said, looking around the crowded room in surprise. "Where are you all supposed to be? I'm in lunch."

"Study hall," said Orlando, raising a hand.

"I've got lunch too," said Billy, "and Elwood's skipping English." He gave Elijah a halfhearted kick in the side.

"Skipping with permission," clarified Elijah, to whom it was an important distinction. "I just asked if I could go practice. We weren't doing anything important, anyway."

"You devil," said Andy, somewhere between approving and sarcastic. It was hard to tell with him. He settled on the piano bench and leaned back with a discordant crash of keys that broke Elijah out of his comfortable doze for good. Dom Monaghan, gay or not, was forgotten for the rest of the period.

 

Billy didn't think about him much for the rest of the year. Things were busy, and when the novelty wore off Dom was just a quiet kid, a decent bassoon player, Orlando's latest fascination. Billy was busy with other things.

First were seating auditions. Elijah usurped his place as first clarinet in both orchestra and band with a minimum of effort, which was no surprise. His talent had been obvious from day one and Billy had only hung on to his seat for an extra semester because freshmen were automatically shuffled to the bottom of the pack. He didn't mind, really- Elijah was a good friend, a brilliant musician, and a gracious winner, but there was one tiny part of him that was just a little bitter.

Then there were Regionals. He was first clarinet, third chair in band and Elijah sat next to him because, prodigy or not, he'd gotten nervous and flubbed his audition. It was wildly fun, actually, the two of them muttering to each other and passing notes throughout rehearsal. Billy spent months preparing for All State auditions and missed the cut off by five points, making him the only one of their group who stayed home. Elijah was second in orchestra, unheard of for a freshman, with Orlando cinching concertmaster and Viggo mallet percussion in the same ensemble and Andy easily making jazz band. That hurt more than seating auditions had, even though it made sense: his forte was marching band, which wasn't exactly an All State sort of thing.

Marching band started up again in spring to prepare for the Memorial Day Parade, which felt like coming home for Billy. And then there were drum major auditions, and he practiced conducting in the mirror for hours every day and he won, and that wiped away every disappointment the year had brought.

His group did well, which wasn't surprising. It wasn't that they were friends who happened to be interested in music. They were the band kids, one or two from every grade who were the stars of various ensembles, more invested in the music department than its staff. Elijah took over as section leader for the clarinets; Viggo was Pit Captain, and Andy, almost against his will, assumed leadership of the marching band saxes as well as the jazz band.

Finals flew by and it was summer. Billy attended Drum Major Academy for two weeks of training, during which he struck up at least a bit of a rapport with Ian, who would be senior drum major next year. At home he worked scooping ice cream to make up the cost of going to camp. He also discovered that being junior drum major involved a great many administrative duties: forwarding PJ's letter of invitation to all the upcoming freshmen who might be interested in marching band, fighting with the school's ancient copy machine over music and drill charts, helping inventory uniforms and school instruments and lyres.

Then the letter came. Due to a shortage of funding the decision had been made (it neglected to say by whom) to cut the music program at their sister school. Girls who were interested in playing would be bussed to the boys' school for seventh and eight period ensembles and extracurriculars. A color guard would be added to the marching band to accommodate some of the new members. PJ called his house the next day, almost beside himself with having to replan the entire semester for an unknown number of new students with an unknown amount of talent.

So it was that Billy hadn't thought of Dom Monaghan in months when the two came face to face on the first morning of band camp. Billy had walked over early to set up the registration table and was utterly surprised to find Dom lounging against the doors of the school, a rifle propped innocuously beside him. Surprised almost to a stop, because this was an entirely different Dom. He wore black stretch pants and a faded tank top, a thick leather cuff around one wrist. His hair, previously buzzed, had grown out enough to be spiked messily and streaked with blond. The difference went beyond that, though. It was in the way he stood, in the looseness of his shoulders and the openness of his face as he squinted amicably into the sun to greet Billy. He looked comfortable. He looked like he fit.

"You're here early," Billy observed, wiping away sweat as he reached the doors.

"Earlier than I'd like," Dom agreed. "PJ's orders."

"Sorry, but...why? We don't start for another forty-five minutes."

"No one told you," Dom said with a knowing smile. "I noticed it didn't go out in the mailing. Have to protect those poor parents and their precious gender roles."

Billy quirked an eyebrow. Dom picked up the rifle and gave it an idle spin. "The new color guard was my idea. Don't know how it would have gone if it weren't for the combining schools thing, but I would've fought for it either way. I was in guard in my old school and you all have a good enough band."

"Good enough?" He had a duty to be kind to newcomers, but that didn't change his loyalties. An insult to the band was an insult to Billy.

Dom, evidently sensing this, held up his free hand in placation. "Woah. I'm just reserving judgment, haven't seen you guys in anything but the parade." He waited for Billy's grudging nod before continuing. "The point is, no one here knows a thing about guard and there's obviously no money for it, given that they just closed a whole music program and all, so yours truly will be both the captain and the instructor of the Emerson High School color guard."

He replaced the rifle carefully and offered his hand.

"I look forward to working with you," said Dom, oddly formal for two not-quite-juniors standing outside of their high school at seven forty-five on a blistering August morning. He was lacking his usual assortment of rings- Billy assumed they interfered with spinning- and their absence somehow drew the eye to the length of his fingers, the chipped black nail polish, the word _fly_ scrawled in purple sharpie across the back of his hand.

"And with you," Billy said, and shook.

\--

Billy was going through the "but why does my child's band have to meet in the summer?" talk for what felt like the millionth time when Orlando finally pulled up in his mother's old Honda. He was only ten minutes late, which was the Orlando equivalent of staking out the place before it opened. Well, about ten minutes. Billy didn't dare look at his watch for fear of seeming rude to his current fussy mom.

Orlando was bouncing on the soles of his feet and making faces by the time Billy finally managed to get rid of her. He made a valiant dash out from behind the registration table the moment she turned away. Of course, that only meant he was tackled back into it as Orlando leapt on him, but at least they didn't knock anything over.

"Check it out check it out check it out!" Orlando crowed as soon as he let Billy go, waving something in front of his face. Billy grabbed his arm long enough to get a look, and then laughed. Only Orlando would manage to get a driver's license photo taken with the widest, craziest smile known to man.

"It would be more impressive if it hadn't taken you three tries to park," he said, and took a swat to the shoulder for it. "Seriously, though, I don't know how you passed the test."

"Probably my stunning good looks," said Orlando, and pulled him into another hug.

"It's good to see you," Billy mumbled into his shoulder, squeezing hard before he let go. It was. Orlando had been out of the country on vacation since two days after school ended, and he hadn't realized how much he'd missed his friend.

"Excuse me," said a small voice from the registration table. A skinny brown-haired girl was standing there with an improbably large trombone case. Probably a freshman, given the sheer amount of awkwardness she was exuding. Billy disentangled himself and went to sign her in.

By the time they'd gone through scheduling and fees and nametags and school policy and band policy, something strange about Orlando's arrival had finally found its way to the front of Billy's mind. His friend was chatting with someone just inside the dim, air-conditioned vestibule that he'd been eyeing longingly all morning. The glare made it impossible to see who the other person was; the only way he was able to identify Orlando was by his unique taste in shirts. Billy kicked the door to get his attention.

"Haven't you forgotten something?" he asked when Orlando's face appeared in a blast of cold air.

"What, my mellophone?"

"It is kind of important, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, no, not really." Orlando's grin made it clear that he'd been waiting for this moment. "Seeing as I'm joining the color guard."

"You're what?"

"Joining the color guard. It's not like I'm actually any good at mello. You know I only play so I won't have to be the lonely string player exiled from marching band."

"Yes, but..." Billy floundered for a moment. "What's to say you'll be any better at color guard?"

"Nothing. But hey, we'll all be bad at it together, since no one has any experience. And besides, we get to twirl things and have sexier uniforms and _dance_. And I get to watch Dom rehearse in stretch pants."

"My god, Orlando, could you possibly be any gayer?"

"Yes. If I didn't spend the morning staring at the new trumpet player's boobs, probably."

Behind him, someone cleared their throat pointedly. Orlando cackled as he let the door swing shut and Billy turned around to face the next parent with a sense of impending doom, blush creeping inexorably over his cheeks.

\--

 

Billy's friends were more dedicated to music than anyone else in the school, but it was Billy who was the most dedicated to the music department. The little bit of authority and responsibility that came with being junior drum major opened the door and he just kind of kept going, filling in when he saw something that needed to be done. By the time the spring concert rolled around he was setting up chairs and stands, folding programs, taking attendance, and even trying to find a pair of black shoes for Bernard, whose senioritis apparently extended all the way to his feet.

When he finally hustled everyone out toward the stage at the end of intermission he stopped for a moment to breathe. He liked these moments particularly, the band room quiet at night but with instruments and stands and sheet music strewn everywhere, waiting for their turn on stage.

"You should consider a career as a traffic cop if the music thing doesn't work out," said Dom, leaning in the doorway. Billy smiled. He'd been having a hard time keeping his eyes off his boyfriend all evening; Dom cleaned up rarely, but well.

"Shall we?" he asked, giving the room a last once over and heading for the door. "They're probably about to start."

"In a minute," said Dom. "In here, first."

He ducked into one of the practice rooms, the smaller one that their group didn't usually hang out in. Billy followed and immediately found himself shoved against a wall, blinking in the darkness as Dom went for his belt.

"Dom, what...we're in school!" he protested, though he didn't exactly put up a fight.

"Correction. We're _at_school. It's after hours, it doesn't count."

"But jazz band-"

"Billy, if you can honestly tell me that you would like to leave this lovely, soundproofed, windowless room where no one will think to look for us in order to go back in there and listen to jazz band, we will absolutely go."

"Andy's featured in one of the pieces. It's his last show, we owe it to him."

"Which piece?"

"Third."

"Well, you'll just have to hurry up then, won't you?" He could practically hear Dom's grin. Hurrying didn't prove to be a problem.

 

Billy didn't get suspicious until Dom actually produced a wad of neatly folded tissues from his pocket to clean everything up. He laughed, to busy trying to keep his knees from giving out to be anything but amused.

"Please don't try to convince me you just happened to bring those along in case of an allergy attack."

"Oops, you've seen through me," said Dom, utterly unrepentant.

"Why now? Not that I'm objecting, of course, but really, the practice room?"

"Well, I could tell you, but you have to promise to keep it a secret. Okay?"

"I promise."

Dom leaned in, taking the opportunity to bite gently at Billy's neck just above his collar before whispering in his best divulging-vital-state-secrets tone,

"I think jazz is kind of boring."


End file.
